


beyond daylight

by savedby



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Leon is a witch and Connor is a disaster, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:20:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14068803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/pseuds/savedby
Summary: It was in the clearing that Connor first saw the witch. He was standing in the tall grass, his figure obscured by the outstretched wings of a massive speckled owl.“I’d been expecting you,” he told Connor.“Did the owl tell you?” Connor asked.“No,” the witch said, gently, “your team called ahead.”“Oh,” Connor said.or, Connor is cursed and Leon is the best witch on this side of the Atlantic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Biggest thanks to Dell, for being with this project since the beginning, for encouraging me and for doing all the beta work. It woudn't exist without you.
> 
> Inspired entirely by [this picture](https://i.redd.it/z945r3hk83rz.jpg) of Leon and Vega, the Eurasian Eagle Owl.

  
  


 

 

It was in the clearing that Connor first saw the witch. He was standing in the tall grass, his figure obscured by the outstretched wings of a massive speckled owl. As Connor watched, the witch bent his head to the owl, as if part of some quiet conversation.

 

He didn’t move when Connor stepped out from under the cover of the trees and cleared his throat. 

 

It wasn’t unpleasant, waiting in the clearing. The summer afternoon moved steadily into twilight and the witch’s little house was surrounded by all plant life that filled the air with its sweet scent. A jasmine bush in full bloom stretched along the corner, and roses bloomed in vivid reds and pinks, a contrast to the muted greens of potted herbs that lined the windows.

 

Connor’s attention was drawn by the beating of the owl’s wings. It took flight off the witch’s arm, circling the clearing once before disappearing into the distance, a huge dark shape against the pink sky.

 

“So, you’re the Champion,” the witch said, and in the last rays of sunlight his eyes glowed golden, “I’m sorry for the delay.”

 

“It’s okay,” Connor said, and because he’d hate to take credit for what wasn’t due, he added, “I don’t know about any champions though. I haven’t won the Stanley Cup yet if that’s what you were thinking of.”

 

The witch burst out laughing. Connor blinked at him placidly.

 

“I guess I’ll drop the ritual speak then,” the witch said between chuckles, “I’m Leon. I was expecting you.”

 

“Did the owl tell you I was coming?” Connor asked, more out of obligation to keep the conversation going than actual interest. It was well known that witches didn’t like giving away their secrets.

 

“Nope,” Leon shrugged, “your team called ahead and said you were.” The sun sank behind the trees and the streetlight attached to the house lit up with a buzz.

 

“Oh,” Connor said, frowning, “you get phone lines out here?”

 

“Sure,” Leon said as if it were a stupid question, “and wi-fi. I wouldn’t know what to do without it.”

 

He started towards the cottage and after a moment of watching his back, Connor realized he was expected to follow, so he did.

 

The inside was brighter than it appeared on the outside. It was basically one big room, with the kitchen, the couch, and the bed all in one space, with a door on the side that probably lead to a bathroom.

 

Come to think of it, did witches even have to use the toilet like normal humans? Connor had never really thought about it.

 

“Yes, we do use the bathroom like normal humans,” Leon said, from where he was rummaging through a kitchen cupboard, “you can just sit wherever you want.”

 

“Did you just read my mind?” Connor asked. He felt like maybe that should make him upset. He searched for the feeling but it slipped away like molasses.

 

“Nope,” Leon said, calmly, while pulling down a copper cauldron from its hanging place above the stove, “that’s just what everyone seems to be most curious about when they come here.”

 

“Oh,” Connor said. He contemplated the bed in the corner for a moment before sitting down on the couch. Something immediately began to poke him in the butt and he reached around to pull out a coin.

 

It was a loonie, glinting in the light, no different than any other one dollar coin he’d ever seen.

 

“You can keep that if you want,” Leon said, stroking the embers into a fire with a few deft strokes with the poker. “It’s more of a magic trick than actual magic, but it gives you a coin every time you sit on it.”

 

Connor nodded even though he didn’t understand, flipping the coin in his fingers. “Did they tell you about why I’m here when they called? The team, I mean.”

 

“Not really,” Leon shrugged, pouring water into the cauldron, “but it’s pretty obvious.” Connor looked down at himself. “It’s only really obvious to people like me,” Leon added as if to comfort him. “It’s a nasty one you’ve got there. A blessing and a curse in one, those are always tricky.”

 

“I’m not allowed to play in the NHL with any curses or magical enhancements placed on me,” Connor recited dutifully. “The team witch didn’t know how to remove it, but they said you would.”

 

Leon made a thoughtful sound, pulling out various jars off the shelves and putting their contents in the cauldron, a handful of this and a pinch of that.

 

“Do you want it removed?” Leon said, still entirely focused on the liquid he was stirring. The house began filling with a sweet, subtle aroma.

 

“I want to play,” Connor said. Outside of that, he didn’t really care.

 

“Okay,” Leon said, shrugging. He pulled a tin mug out from a cupboard and ladled some of the liquid into it through a strainer. “Here you go.”

 

He handed the mug to Connor who got up to take it. It warmed his hands pleasantly.

 

“Will this fix me?” Connor said, blowing on the surface, watching his breath move the liquid.

 

“No,” Leon said, gently, “that’s just tea.”

 

“Oh,” Connor said and took a sip. It was delicious.

 

After that, Leon asked a couple more questions. About Connor’s well-being, about his family, and about hockey. 

 

“Do you like hockey?” Connor asked Leon between sips of his tea.

 

Leon smiled. “I like hockey very much,” he said.

 

“Do you like the Oilers?” Connor asked, and it seemed suddenly very important to him that he knew the answer.

 

“Yes,” Leon said, still smiling, almost boyish in the lamplight, “I like the Oilers.”

 

“That’s good,” Connor told him. “You have good taste in hockey teams.”

 

Leon’s laughter felt a little like the cup of tea, warming him inside out.

 

Leon pulled out some bread and some cheese and he fried up some eggs for dinner, and they ate at a rickety table, with seating for two. Connor had to move a stack of books to the floor so he could sit down. 

 

“I don’t get a lot of visitors here,” Leon said, apologetic.

 

After dinner, Connor became sleepy. “I can usually stay awake longer than this,” he observed. 

 

“It’s okay,” Leon said, picking up the dishes and carrying them to the sink. “We have an early morning tomorrow.”

 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Connor pointed out, rubbing his eyes. He got stuck on the bed in the corner again. It was big but-

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Leon said, shrugging. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”

 

With a delicate snap of his fingers, the couch unfolded itself into a spare bed, fresh linens and all. 

 

Connor blinked at it, and then at Leon, who shrugged. “I’ve got to show off sometimes,” he said.

 

Connor changed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom. He curled up under the covers of the spare bed, which was thankfully comfortable and didn’t offer up any more coins. 

 

He drifted off to sleep almost immediately, listening to the sounds of Leon tidying up and the clink of dishes, feeling warm and, most surprisingly, safe.

  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor meets Eustace.

 

 

Connor woke up with a start, trying desperately to fill his lungs with air, clawing at the heavy object pressing down on his chest.

 

“Oh no,” he heard Leon say, “Eustace! Get down from there! Leave Connor alone!”

 

Then the weight on his chest was suddenly gone and Connor could breathe again. The would-be murderer revealed itself to be a ginger tabby cat, wider than he was tall. It paid no attention to Leon’s continued scolding, instead sauntering leisurely to a cat bowl in the corner, staring at Connor imploringly.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Leon said to Connor, looking genuinely apologetic, “I just took my eyes off him for a second. I told him not to bother you, but he never listens.”

 

“What does he want?” Connor asked, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded. It’s like he’d been screaming during the night, but he couldn't remember anything like that happening.

 

“Oh, you mean Eustace?” Leon asked and Connor nodded, “he expects to be individually fed by everyone present in the house. But that’s not going to happen,” Leon turned to the cat, “because he’s already had his breakfast!”

 

Eustace seemed unbothered by the statement. He stretched and let out a meow, rolling and impossibly low. He then walked over to Leon and wound himself around his legs in figure eights, stopping every so often to rub his head against Leon’s pants, punctuating the motion with another low, rolling meow.

 

“Absolutely not,” Leon told him sternly and turned his back on him. The cat seemed to shrug, then braced on his hind legs, rose up to sink his claws directly into Leon’s ass cheek.

 

Leon yelped and swore, and Eustace dropped down to return to his ministrations. “Fine!” Leon snapped finally, walking over to carve a few slices off a piece of ham and dropping them down on the floor. “Are you happy now?”

 

Eustace didn’t reply, too busy stuffing his face with the ham. Leon sighed.

 

“He’s supposed to be on a diet,” Leon told Connor, moving deftly around the cat to pour a mug of tea from the cauldron. 

 

“I think he looks great,” Connor said, feeling a rather strange sense of loyalty to the cat. Leon handed him the cup of tea. It was warm, but not enough to burn him. It was a different tea than the evening before, but it was also delicious.

 

Connor looked around for a clock, finding none. He wasn’t even sure where his phone was. “Did I keep you waiting for a long time?” he said. “I don’t usually sleep this long.”

 

“Not really,” Leon shrugged, “it’s barely dawn. I don't really need that much sleep.”

 

“Oh,” Connor said and took another sip of his tea to keep himself from asking more questions.

 

“What did you dream about?” Leon asked.

 

“Nothing,” Connor said automatically. He didn’t dream often, even before what happened to him. Now he didn’t dream at all, the hours between waking staying calm and blank.

 

He looked up at Leon, who shook his head. “What did you dream about?” Leon repeated, more insistent, and Connor forced himself to think.

 

“Everything was white,” he said after a moment, “like snow, but a lot of it, as far as I could see.”

 

“Is that all?” Leon said, and he sounded neutral, though Connor couldn’t shake the feeling that he was disappointed. 

 

“There was a sign, in the snow,” Connor forced himself to remember. His memory felt slow, like skating with a parachute on his back in drills.

 

“Could you draw it for me?” Leon asked, suddenly urgent.

 

“I think so,” Connor said.

 

Leon turned to take a small old-fashioned chalkboard off the wall. He set it in front of Connor with a piece of chalk, smiling encouragingly. Eustace, seemingly done with the ham, jumped up on the couch bed next to Connor, inspecting the object, then, deeming it uninteresting, proceeded to mash his head against Connor’s arm.

 

Connor inhaled and tried to focus. The board smelled of chalk dust and his grip on the chalk felt awkward. He stroked Eustace’s head carefully, and the feel of the soft fur was comforting. 

 

Connor drew the symbol as best he could, with a surprisingly minimal amount of chalk screeches. It looked almost like two hockey sticks above a big puck. 

 

He told that to Leon and Leon sighed, shaking his head.

 

“Does it help?” Connor asked. Eustace had started purring and had forced himself halfway into Connor’s lap, insistently kneading his massive paws into Connor’s thigh.

 

“Yeah, a bit,” Leon said, slowly. “The bad news is that I still don’t know who did this to you or how to find them.”

 

“And the good news?”

 

“I think I know someone who can,” Leon said and smiled. Eustace meowed, seemingly echoing his sudden good mood.

 

“So where are we going?” Connor asked as Eustace settled in his lap for a nap.

 

“Toronto,” Leon said, still grinning. “You eat your breakfast while I get everything ready, okay?”

 

“Er,” Connor looked at the plate on the counter that Leon gestured to, and then to the cat in his lap. “I guess.”

 

Leon laughed and brought the plate over, and then disappeared out the door, into the pre-dawn light, presumably to gather his supplies. Connor hadn’t the faintest idea about what kind of supplies witches needed and he didn’t entertain the idea for long.

 

He shifted the ham off the plate to Eustace and started eating.

  
  


*

  
  


It hadn’t taken Connor too long to assemble his things. He only had the one bag. Leon, on the other hand, dragged a massive satchel out of storage and Connor occasionally caught sight of him rushing back and forth with an armful of jars, dried herbs, and tinted bottles. 

 

It still seemed impolite to stare, so Connor went to sit on the bench outside. Eustace followed, rubbing up against his legs before jumping up to settle on a windowsill to enjoy the sun. He was surprisingly agile for such a big cat.

 

It was still early. The grass was still wet with dew, drying in the dawn sunshine. It was objectively a beautiful scene, the sky painted in pinks and oranges, and the forest still and quiet. 

 

He felt like it should touch him more than it did. But, after all, that was his problem.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Leon asked behind him. He was leaning against the front door, satchel slung over his shoulder and sunlight glinting off his hair.

 

“The first hockey puck was reportedly made of frozen cow dung,” Connor said.

 

Leon blinked at him. “That’s nice,” he said slowly, “you should remember that if we come across any faeries. They love weird facts like that.”

 

“Faeries love weird facts?” Connor asked, a little skeptical.

 

“And jokes,” Leon said, “but I don’t think you’d be good at telling those, in your state.”

 

It was true. No matter how hard Connor tried, he couldn’t think of one.

 

“How are we getting to Toronto?” Connor asked after a beat of silence. “Are we taking your broomstick or something?” He smiled, trying to indicate that this was his attempt at joking.

 

“Oh, no, it doesn’t really like to fly,” Leon pulled a smartphone out of his pocket, which was shocking enough by itself.

 

“What?” Connor asked blankly. He hadn’t really believed in the old tales about witches and broomsticks, but Leon said it like it was nothing. Then again, he also didn’t know that witches used smartphones or needed Wi-Fi.

 

“Hm?” Leon looked up from his phone and smiled ruefully. “I’ve never liked flying. And my broomstick prefers sweeping, if you can believe that.”

 

As if on cue, there was a loud noise from behind the cottage, sounding not unlike nails scratching on cement.

 

It was a rather large broom, almost man-sized and polished to a shine, and standing up by itself. It swept the porch with such vigor that it would have swept Connor straight off his feet if Leon hadn’t snagged the back of his shirt and pulled him out of harm's way.

 

The broom stopped in front of Leon, looking nothing less like an overexcited puppy. He smiled and reached forward to pat the handle.

 

“Good job,” he said, “you can do the inside and the basement when you’re done here. But remember to rest too.”

 

The broom quivered and stood to attention. Connor got the impression that it would probably salute him if it had hands. And then it bustled off, disappearing around the corner. 

 

“It responds better to direct commands,” Leon explained and started walking. “If I leave it to its own devices, it gets overexcited and starts sweeping the forest floor.”

 

“And it doesn’t like to fly?” Connor asked, dumbfounded. He followed Leon down the path.

 

“Not at all,” Leon said, happily. “The witches’ council keeps telling me I should buy another one and get a Roomba, but I like how it’s found its passion in life.”

 

“Right,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Uh, you aren’t going to lock the front door?”

 

“Oh no,” Leon said, grinning. “The whole place is warded, and besides, if there are any trespassers, Eustace will take care of them.”

 

Connor turned around to look at the cottage. He could just about barely make out Eustace stretched out on the windowsill, rolled onto his back to expose his belly to the sun. 

 

He didn’t seem like a particularly competent home guardian, but Leon looked like he knew what he was talking about so Connor shrugged and hurried to catch up with Leon’s long stride.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates on Sunday! Let me know if you like it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Connor take a trip.

 

The station was closer than Connor would have thought. Nuge had driven him here, hands clenched on the wheel and sneaking worried glances at Connor, as they attempted to navigate the instructions that the team coven had provided for them.

 

Nuge didn’t have to drive him. A team official could have done it just as well and Nuge was worried about scratches on his SUV even in urban conditions. Connor appreciated it though.

 

But the station that Leon led him to wasn’t on any maps that he and Nuge had looked at. 

 

It looked abandoned. The station sign was so old that its name had been obscured by rust, and the train tracks were rusted and overgrown with weeds. They were the only people waiting.

 

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Connor asked carefully.

 

Leon looked unbothered. “Yep,” he said, then checked his phone. “The train should be here any minute now.”

 

And before Connor could open his mouth to protest, there was a loud noise and a train drove from out of the darkness of the forest and stopped at the station with a loud screech that startled a nearby flock of birds.

 

The train doors opened, and they boarded it past a dumbfounded conductor who barely glanced at the tickets Leon had on his phone. 

 

Listening in to the conversations of the other passengers, Connor gathered that they had been somewhere in Western Ontario just before this.

 

The train’s doors closed and it moved. The image of the forest outside their windows shuddered and warped, and when Connor blinked, they were travelling on flatland, the silhouette of the city of Toronto rising up in the distance.

 

He looked over at Leon, who just gave him a bright smile. “Magic,” he said simply. 

 

Connor had seen quite a bit of magic in his life. Everyone had, even if they didn't have any connection to it. But he’d never seen the Oilers’ employed witch coven even attempt anything like moving a whole train from one location to another.

 

By the time they got to Toronto, Connor had learned that Leon’s last name was Draisaitl and that he was originally from Germany. His favourite fruit was oranges and he didn’t really like country music. He’d come over to Canada on some sort of witch exchange and liked it so much he didn’t want to leave.

 

Connor had a feeling that there was more to the story to that last fact but he didn’t push. They spent the rest of the ride talking about hockey.

 

And Leon just kept smiling at him, in that soft, serious way. Like everything Connor said to him was somehow the most important thing in the world. Maybe it was a witch thing. Maybe this steady sincerity was what Leon used to make other people more comfortable around him, enough to divulge their secrets.

 

Somehow the thought of that hurt, sharp and sudden, like a high stick to the mouth. 

  
  


*

  
  


They disembarked at Toronto Union Station like everyone else and no further hidden stations appeared. 

 

It seemed like wherever Leon went, people moved out of his way. It wasn’t even anything magic, or at least Connor didn’t think so. There was almost something in the way he held himself and the way he walked, with supreme self-confidence, despite the cracked patches to his leather satchel and his scuffed shoes. 

 

In contrast, a cap pulled low over his face seemed to be all the disguise Connor needed to go unnoticed, just another face in the crowd. It meant that at some point under the pressure of the crowd he started losing sight of Leon. 

 

The mass of people moved in unison, towards the exits, towards their lives. Its movement was erratic and unpredictable, but it smoothed out into order. Connor had the bare bones of a formation in mind already, a way to transfer the chaotic movement to the ice, if he could only just-

 

Dry, warm fingers closed up around Connor’s wrist, followed by the smell of pinewood and dried thyme. Connor breathed out. It was Leon, smiling at him softly and apologetically, his hand shockingly warm on Connor’s.

 

“I almost lost you there,” Leon said and Connor nodded, startled, the plan already fading from his memory.

 

Leon pulled him through the crowds, unhindered, and out on the sidewalk. It was still early, and people were rushing along to make it to their jobs on time, arms full of satchels and PDA-free water bottles. Connor recognized Downtown, squinting against the sun reflecting off the glass panels of the skyscrapers. 

 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Connor pointed out. Leon turned around to squint at him, as if he’d momentarily forgotten that Connor was even there, despite his fingers still firmly wound around Connor’s wrist.

 

Or maybe he hadn’t forgotten, because Leon started walking down the sidewalk, pulling on Connor’s hand to get him to follow. 

 

“Oh, hadn’t I?” he said, sounding distracted as he looked around at the buildings they were passing.

 

Connor tried again. “You know, if you just told me where we’re going, I could probably help you find it. I’m actually from Toronto-”

 

“A-ha!” Leon cut him off, grinning triumphantly. He pointed at a tall building across the street, the same chrome and glass as any other building in the vicinity. “There it is.”

 

“What?” Connor said, with no small amount of frustration. They waited at an intersection and Leon had dropped his hand to push the button for the crosswalk. He didn’t move to take Connor’s hand again afterwards. Connor didn’t know why he expected him too.

 

“The faerie court!” Leon said cheerily. The light turned green. Leon started walking, seemed to realize that Connor wasn’t following and returned to grab his hand to drag him across the street. “Don’t look so surprised.”

 

Connor shook his head. “The faerie court?” he repeated. “Sorry, but aren’t they in the woods or something?”

 

“Well, yeah,” Leon explained slowly like he wasn’t the one spouting absolute nonsense, “they have branch offices out in the woods, but this is the main administrative building.”

 

They stopped in front of it and looked up. Connor searched the glass windows, not sure what he was expecting to find. Some Cottingley faeries dancing behind the panes?

 

“How did you know this was it?” he asked, and Leon pointed down to their feet. The uneven patches in the pavement looked subtle enough to be accidental if you didn’t notice that they were spread out in a perfect circle.

 

“It’s crude, but shows the way well enough, if you know where you’re looking,” Leon said, shrugging. “Now, when we get inside just follow my lead, okay?”

 

The doors opened to a modern reception, a spacious room with brutalist cement beams and strange delicate sculptures through which you had to pass to approach the lone receptionist sitting behind a massive white desk. She was on the phone, typing something, occasionally replying to the person on the other end of the line with a sharp, “Yes, sir.”

 

Leon looked around for a moment, then grinned and snapped his fingers behind his back. The sound seemed to echo in the space, much louder than it should, and right after, the printer on the desk let out a loud beep and started smoking.

 

The receptionist didn’t even flinch. She just took out an air freshener from behind the desk and sprayed it. The room started smelling like smoke and vanilla. It wasn’t pleasant.

 

Leon frowned, snapped his fingers again and muttered something under his breath. The printer caught fire.

 

In one smooth motion, she brought up a fire extinguisher and sprayed the fire into submission. All without breaking her call.

 

Leon frowned harder and then sighed. “She’s a golem,” he said, mostly to himself. That was good because Connor had no idea what to say to that.

 

“Let’s just go,” Leon said, then pulled on their joined hands and Connor followed him to the side of the room. As they walked, the room warped strangely around them. The open support beams were still there, but faded somehow, like they couldn’t quite decide between being brick or staying cement. From this angle, the glass sculptures started resembling grotesque animals, redirecting the light in strange patterns onto the walls.

 

The room had no windows.

 

The elevator doors slid open with a surprisingly cheerful ding, and Leon pulled him inside. The door closed on the encroaching nightmare and Connor took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He looked at the glowing numbers on the wall.

 

“What floor?”

 

“Oh, 13,” Leon said, preoccupied.

 

“There’s no floor 13,” Connor pointed out.

 

“Huh?” Leon looked over and frowned at the numbers. “Oh, right.”

 

He muttered something under his breath and there was a noise like a rubber band snapping, and the button for floor 13 appeared among the others. Connor pressed it, and the elevator started moving.

 

“That was surprisingly easy,” Connor remarked, after a moment. 

 

Leon let out a shaky laugh. “Easy for you to say,” he said, “you don’t have to deal with the warding on this place.”

 

On second thought Leon really didn’t look so good. He was pale and sweating, and the fingers around Connor’s wrist felt cold.

 

“Oh, sorry,” Connor said, remembering his good manners. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

He twisted his arm out of Leon’s grip to take his hand properly, trying to warm his fingers.

 

“Keep doing that,” Leon said, hoarsely, and then he closed his eyes, affecting an expression of focus.

 

Connor counted down the seconds between floors. With each level, Leon seemed weaker and paler, and by the time the doors opened on the 13th floor, Connor was practically holding him up.

 

They stepped into a long hallway, painted sterile white, and on the end of that hallway was a huge wooden door, guarded by two beefy, armed men. They were playing cards.

 

“Oh shit,” Leon said when he saw them, “they weren’t supposed to be there.”

 

He seemed genuinely taken off guard, and combined with his evident exhaustion it was a worrying sight.

 

“I don’t suppose I have to fight them or something?” Connor asked wryly.

 

It startled a laugh out of Leon. “You’re not that kind of Champion,” he said, “besides, I can’t deliver you back to your team with another broken collarbone.”

 

As if on cue, one of the guards looked up from his cards and gasped.

 

“That’s Connor McDavid!” he said, in a tone of total admiration.

 

His companion looked at him, annoyed. “Stop trying to cheat at cards!” he said. “You tried that on me once and it won’t work again.”

 

The first guard made an inarticulate sound of frustration and grabbed the other guard’s face, turning it towards where Connor and Leon were standing in the hallway.

 

The second guard gasped. “That’s Connor McDavid!” he said.

 

“I told you it’s him!”

 

It turned out they were both from Edmonton. Huge Oilers fans. And after Connor signed their shirts, their playing cards, their gun holsters, and phone cases, they let them through without a fuss. 

 

“Well, that was easy,” Leon said, echoing Connor’s words back at him. He looked a bit better after a few minutes of rest, some of the colour returning to his face. It’s not that Connor missed holding his hand but—

 

“Easy for you to say,” Connor said, “you don’t have to deal with playing 82 games per regular season.”

 

Leon laughed and opened his mouth to say something when the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

 

The room it lead to seemed impossible. It looked like a clearing in the middle of the forest. The carpet was soft green grass, strewn with bright yellow flowers, and there were tall trees, the leaves rustling softly in a wind that shouldn’t exist.

 

And there, in the middle of the clearing, upon an intricate wooden throne and surrounded by unbelievably beautiful people, sat the faerie king. 

 

He looked familiar.

 

“Oh shit,” said William Nylander, sitting up suddenly on his throne and dislodging the flower crown set daintily upon his perfect hair.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William Nylander has some interesting extracurriculars.

 

“ Willy ?” Connor frowned. “You’re the faerie king?”

 

William opened his mouth and then closed it after a moment. His perfectly flawless cheeks reddened. Instead of it making him look unattractive or blotchy, it only enhanced his glow. “I…” he started.

 

“You can’t lie here,” Leon interjected, sounding smug. Connor turned to him.

 

“Did you know about this?” He waved at William and the meadow and tiny green vines creeping up around the throne.

 

“Yeah,” Leon said, shrugging. “He’s pretty obvious.”

 

“I am not!” William hissed. The vines sprouted small bulbs as if responding to his mood. “You’re just a freak, Leon.”

 

“You know each other?” Connor asked, feeling entirely out of his depth.

 

“Sure,” Leon said. He seemed more at ease now, the previous fatigue entirely forgotten. “The magical user community is fairly insular. Everyone knows everyone else after some point.”

 

Connor nodded thoughtfully. “Like in hockey,” he pointed out.

 

Both Leon and William looked at him, and something in their faces looked suspiciously like pity.

 

“That’s a really nasty curse,” William said. The vine growing around him opened in bright pink flowers. They matched the fading blush on his cheeks.

 

“We were hoping to find out how to break it and who cast it,” Leon said, sounding much more serious.

 

William hummed under his breath. “And what brought you here, to me?”

 

“A prophetic dreaming draught, combined with a drop of liquid sincerity,” Leon said, brought out the folded paper from that morning out of his bag and handed it to a vine that was suddenly in front of it. It carried it up to William, who sat it carefully on his lap. He didn’t take his eyes off Leon, though.

 

“Where did you get a freshly cut Sundrop Dew at this time of the year?” William asked, sounding curious.

 

“I have my sources,” Leon said, and because it looked like this would devolve into shop talk, Connor interrupted.

 

“Wait, you drugged me?” he said to Leon, who had the grace to look guilty.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but prior knowledge of ingestion can affect the dreams. I had to.”

 

Connor shook his head. “It still wasn’t very nice,” he told Leon, then turned to William. “So, will you help us?”

 

“Depends on what you can bargain,” William said, shrugging. The flowers had closed and were falling off the stems, dried or rotten, and the vine had dropped its leaves. “I don’t give out information for free.”

 

Connor thought for a moment. “The first hockey games were played with frozen horse dung instead of a puck,” he offered.

 

William just blinked at him for a moment. In the background, Leon was struggling to hold in his laughter.

 

“That’s a really interesting fact,” William said, “and barely enough to pay for a small favor. This, I assure you, isn’t a small favor.”

 

Connor shrugged. “I’ll tell Matts and Marns that you’re the faerie king,” he said.

 

“Pfft, so what?” William said, but he sounded suddenly nervous.

 

“They’re going to be very disappointed that you lied to them,” Connor said lightly.

 

“They won’t believe you,” William said. The vine around his throne collapsed with a quiet groan of snapping stems. As if on cue, the pear tree next to the wooden throne started flowering.  

 

“I once told Mitch that if you tried to use your eyes to look at the back of your brain, they’d get stuck like that and you’d be blind forever.”

 

“Mitch still believes that if you try to look at the back of your brain your eyes get stuck,” William said with growing trepidation. “Despite everyone telling him it’s not even remotely true.”

 

“You see my point,” Connor said.

 

William sighed. “Fine,” he said and unfolded the piece of paper.

 

“Connor thinks it looks like two back to back hockey sticks above a puck,” Leon volunteered helpfully.

 

“Of course Connor thinks that,” William muttered. Connor frowned, but William cut him off before he could say anything. “What else did you dream about?”

 

Connor had almost forgotten about the dream and Leon drugging him. He attempted another glare in his direction but Leon looked so encouraging that Connor just couldn’t do it. “It was white,” he said.

 

“White,” William said, flatly.

 

“I think it was snow,” Connor added, helpfully.

 

“Well, that sure narrows it down,” William rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’ve got no idea how to go about breaking it. That’s not part of my job description.”

 

“Hey,” Connor said, something suddenly occurring to him, “you can be the faerie king and still play in the NHL. Can’t you just teach me how to disguise the curse so it doesn’t show up on screens and I can just go back to playing?”

 

Leon made a displeased noise by his side, but Connor didn’t look at him, just at William, who was chewing on his lip in thought. It was a surprisingly human gesture.

 

“I’d rather not leave you like this,” William said, finally, almost gently.

 

“You had to be bribed to help me,” Connor pointed out but was soundly ignored.

 

“Do you know who could have put the curse on him at least?” Leon interjected.

 

“I do, but I can’t tell you,” William said, then glared at Connor, “no matter how much you threaten me. But…” he stopped, distracted by a branch that swung up to offer him a perfectly ripe golden pear. He bit into it and made a pleased noise.

 

“But?” Leon prompted.

 

“I can tell you where to find them,” William said.

 

*

 

“The North Pole?” Connor asked sceptically, for what felt like the umpteenth time. Leon hummed under his breath and took a coat off the sales rack, holding it up to Connor’s body.

 

After William told them they’d have to make their way to Grise Fiord in the Canadian North, they’d finished their transaction, if it could be called that. William offered them his pears, but Connor knew enough about the fae to refuse immediately. 

 

By the time they had made it down to the lobby, both the two guards and the golem receptionist were gone, and Leon didn’t struggle with wards on their way down. Walking through the empty rooms in order to reach the door was somehow more disconcerting than when it had been filled with ghosts and shadows. Now it just looked like plain cement and glass, but Connor had no doubt that to the next person that came in it would have looked just as lavish as it had to them when they came in.

 

Leon had booked them plane tickets to Grise Fiord through some witch contacts, which gave them the rest of the day to prepare supplies for the trip. Connor, who by luck of genetics had rarely ever been cold, was a little lost, following Leon among the coat racks.

 

“The North Pole is what William said, so that’s where we’re going,” Leon said, shrugging. He held up two big puffy coats and compared them on himself then put them back. 

 

After a moment of watching him, Connor finally figured out what he was doing and he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Supplies are on me,” he said, quietly.

 

Leon looked confused. “You know that your team is paying me to do this, right?” he asked. “I’ll buy us both coats and gloves and everything that’s needed. I have enough.”

 

“Leon, I’m worth a 100 million,” Connor said.

 

“Oh,” Leon said, and he suddenly looked a little green around the edges.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Connor said firmly. “Besides...I think you need some pants without holes in them.”

 

Leon looked down at his legs, where his knees were poking out of the denim and frowned. “You’re probably right,” he said.

 

It took a few more assurances, but Leon was completely on board with the idea after Connor marched him to the startled cashier, coat in tow, and proceeded to pay for it, just to make a point. Of course, they had to exchange it for a bigger size right after because it was too small on Leon and he hadn’t even gotten to try it on.

 

Connor could actually get used to watching Leon make his way through clothing stores with Connor’s credit card. He was surprisingly proficient at it for someone who lived in a cottage in the woods for most of his days. In fact, Leon seemed to have this incredible knack for finding the exact clothes that fit Connor. 

 

He suspected that Leon was altering them with magic somehow. He’d seen him do it on himself, as a pair of pants had shrunk on his body in order to perfectly fit his ass. Not that Connor was looking.

 

*

 

“Isn’t it strange to have room service for lunch?” Leon asked after Connor handed him the menu. He seemed unusually uncomfortable in the hotel room. Maybe he would have preferred a private room instead of sharing a double with Connor, but it was the only thing available when Connor booked it.

 

“Not that strange,” Connor shrugged, “sometimes on an away trip you just don’t feel like leaving your bed so you get room service. Besides, I thought we were keeping a low profile?”

 

“Yeah,” Leon said, then squinted at Connor thoughtfully, “the ‘look-away’ illusion I put on you is starting to wear off.”

 

Connor frowned. “You put a spell on me? When?”

 

“When we got on the train,” Leon said, distractedly, looking at the menu.

 

“Could you stop doing that, please?”

 

“Doing what?” Leon looked up.

 

“Putting spells on me without telling me,” Connor waved his hand around to emphasise, “or drugging me, or anything like that.”

 

Leon watched him silently as Connor struggled to make sense of what he was feeling. Not for the first time, he wished that none of this had happened and that he could be on the ice, playing, out where things made sense.

 

“I’m sorry,” Leon broke into his thoughts. Connor got the sense that he wasn’t used to saying it.

 

Connor took a deep breath. “It’s fine,” he said, even though it wasn’t. Leon was still a witch and witches were known for doing as they pleased. They didn’t ask for permission.

 

“Do you know what you’re ordering?” Connor asked, to break the sudden awkward silence.

 

“Um,” Leon said, looking down at the menu again, “I don’t know? I mean, everything looks good.”

 

For the first time since Connor met him, Leon looked out of his depth. 

 

“The burgers are pretty good here,” Connor suggested gently and Leon looked relieved.

 

“I’ll take that then,” Leon said and closed the menu, placing it on the desk.

 

Connor had a go-to order in the hotel restaurant, calculated so it had the exact amount of nutrients he needed. He called to place the order and afterwards he found Leon looking at him with something suspiciously like admiration.

 

“What?” Connor asked.

 

“You spend a lot of time in hotel rooms,” Leon phrased it like a question.

 

“Sure,” Connor said, shrugging. “Part of the job. You get used to it. They all start to look mostly the same after a while.”

 

He tried a smile and Leon smiled back.

 

“I don’t leave my house much,” Leon said after a moment. “Usually people come to me when they need anything.”

 

“Oh,” Connor said because he couldn’t think of anything else.

 

“I’m not used to sleeping in places with unfamiliar wards,” Leon continued. He seemed almost embarrassed.

 

“Oh,” Connor repeated. “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

 

The only other place he could think of to take Leon was his parents’ house, but that was a long drive. And he shuddered thinking of his mother’s delight at him bringing home a friend.

 

Leon shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said, “I’ll just re-do them into something more familiar after we eat. It should hold for the night.”

 

“Are you technically allowed to do that?” Connor asked, worried.

 

“Technically, there’s no rule against it,” Leon said, grinning, and before Connor could question him further, the doorbell rang, signifying that their food had arrived.

 

After, Connor settled on one of the beds and Leon went about doing mysterious witchy things like throwing about what looked like smelling salts and drawing random symbols on furniture with chalk. Connor made a silent note to leave a really big tip for the cleaners afterwards.

 

Connor got busy checking his Instagram. Mitch had posted another picture from a summer training session and Connor got stuck thinking about Nylander again. Should he tell Mitch about the whole faerie thing even though he promised?

 

He opened up his texts with Mitch, fingers hovering over the buttons. The last thing there was a puppy video Mitch had sent him and Connor replayed it as if it could give him some sort of sign.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Leon asked, and Connor scooted over to show him the video. Leon laughed too.

 

“Are you thinking about telling him about Nylander?” Leon asked after.

 

Connor shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 

“Well, technically you didn’t swear anything,” Leon said, thoughtfully, “so you could, if you wanted.”

 

“But?”

 

“He seemed protective of them,” Leon said, thoughtfully, “and as fae go, William is not a bad one to do business with.”

 

“There are more faerie kings?”

 

“Sure. Queens and non-binary folk too. You can’t expect only one to deal with all the mischief of the world,” Leon said, smiling.

 

Connor exited the thread, opened up youtube instead to look at more puppy and kitten videos. 

 

Leon moved onto the clothes they bought, laying them out on the bed. He used the little hotel sewing kit to sew in designs that burned into the cloth once he was finished.

 

Connor interrupted him occasionally, showing him a particularly cute video. Leon didn’t ask him to stop. He just looked and laughed and went back to sewing.

 

He was still working by the time Connor fell asleep, hunched over on himself in the light of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows on the walls.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates Tuesday! What do you think of William the faerie king?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leon and Connor go travelling.

 

Connor woke up to Leon shaking him awake. 

 

“Hey,” Leon said softly, “we need to get ready. Our plane leaves early.”

 

Connor murmured something mournful under his breath and Leon laughed. He pushed Connor’s hair away from his forehead in a fond gesture and stood up.

 

Connor sighed and rolled onto his feet. He was used to early mornings but that didn’t mean he enjoyed them.

 

“Did you sleep?” he asked Leon, who was busy folding up all their newly bought winter clothing.

 

“Enough,” Leon said, shrugging. He looked fine, not like someone who hadn’t slept at all, so Connor let it drop.

 

A couple of hours and two flights later, they were flying along in a shaky aircraft over Nunavut, aiming to land at Grise Fiord Airport before dark. 

 

Their pilot was familiar with the journey. Otherwise, he’d told them before takeoff, he wouldn’t have even attempted it. The runway at their destination was too short and almost always iced over, and the way was treacherous, as were the weather conditions. 

 

Leon was talkative during the trip. At least some of it was probably from his aforementioned dislike of flying. He chattered on about his hometown, moved on to herbal remedies and then his apprenticeship, which seemed to mostly consist of him putting out fires behind his mentor, a well-respected witch with an unfortunate tendency towards pyromania.

 

In contrast, Connor became even more withdrawn. It’d been three days since he trained, longer still since he last skated and held a hockey stick. With the season so close, the separation felt irresponsible. 

 

He missed it like a limb, the sharpened focus, the abject simplicity of passing lanes and the noise of pucks clattering across the ice. It would be so much easier for him if he never had to leave it.

 

He should be out on the ice, getting better, not up here in the air, chasing ghosts. He was going to let everyone down.

 

Leon touched his hand. 

 

“You’re like an ice cube,” he murmured, curling his fingers around Connor’s palm.

 

“I don’t feel cold,” Connor told him. It was true, but he didn’t attempt to take his hand away, and neither did Leon.

 

*

 

By the time they landed in Grise Fiord, it was late according to Connor’s watch but it was still daylight outside. They were close enough to the North Pole to experience its endless day. 

 

Grise Fiord was a few scattered wooden houses built on platforms. Cradled by mountains on one side and sinking into the sea on the other, it wasn’t precisely a welcoming place to live.

 

“It’s not frozen over,” Connor pointed out, inspecting the ground. Instead of the snow, he’d expected, the soil was dark brown and fine-grained. Looking around, it didn’t seem like there was anything growing to be seen, except for the potted plant on the inside of the control tower.

 

“You caught us in one of the rare thawed moments of the year,” came a voice behind them. It was a small woman, dressed in a thick parka, her dark eyes flashing. 

 

“Meeka,” Leon said softly, “sorry to intrude on you so suddenly.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “As I recall, you’ve never cared for rules or traditions much, I don’t expect you to start now. I’m letting you stay here for as long as you need to fix this thing and not a day longer, do you understand?”

 

“Sure,” Leon shrugged, but she was already turning away, looking at Connor. Her face and tone softened.

 

“Don’t worry, dear,” she told Connor, smiling gently, “that doesn’t apply to you. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, and if Leon here becomes unreliable, I’ll figure something out, okay?”

 

Caught off guard by her sudden warmth, Connor nodded. He shot a questioning at Leon when her back was turned and Leon give him a reassuring smile.

 

“Witches don’t like other witches on their turf,” Leon explained quietly. “In Meeka’s case, she’s in charge of the whole Arctic circle. I’ve had run-ins with her before, not all of them pleasant. But her people are incredibly welcoming and she’d never turn us away, knowing you had a problem.”

 

Meeka cut into their conversation. “Ready to go?” she asked, and some of her initial snappishness had cleared from her tone.

 

They were driven from the airstrip to the small town and left in front of one of the wooden houses as Meeka pressed a key into Connor’s palm with a reassuring smile. “Get some rest,” she told them, waved an absent-minded goodbye, got on her ATV and speed away, leaving them staring after her.

 

“Well,” Leon started to say, then shrugged, gesturing for Connor to unlock the door. The house was small, but cosy, the floor covered in colourful rugs, curtains snuffing out the pale light from the windows. A fire in the fireplace was slowly dimming down to a few shining coals. Leon brushed past him to throw another log on the fire, and Connor got a brief impression of his smell, like strong herbs and ozone. 

 

Connor shivered but he wasn’t cold.

 

Leon settled to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, dropping his coat, and for lack of anything better to do, Connor sat down on the bed to watch him. 

 

Bed. There was only one, plush and comfortable, and sized for two, but barely. There was no couch for Connor to sleep on this time.

 

His thought process was interrupted when Leon made a small, satisfied sound. Under his care, the fire had turned into a blaze, wild enough that Connor could feel its warmth from where he was sitting. And then Leon reached out.

 

Connor barely suppressed a shout as Leon put his hand into the fire, but there was no smell of burning flesh. Leon grabbed a smouldering log and held it for a moment, suspended in the blaze, before dropping it. It had a small burnt-in symbol on it and the fire calmed down, receding into something more domestic.

 

“So it won’t go out on us during the night,” Leon explained, wiping the soot off his hand with a handkerchief. Connor had to resist rolling his eyes at him.

 

Leon removed his sweater and his shirt, and Connor’s thoughts put themselves in order enough that he leapt to his feet, standing awkwardly near the bed.

 

“I can-” he started, but Leon cut him off.

 

“The bed is big enough,” he said. He must have read something in Connor’s face, because he smiled, softly, eyes glittering in the orange light of the fire. “Don’t overthink it.”

 

Connor nodded and swallowed, but still turned away to take off his own upper layers. By the time he looked back, Leon had already climbed under the covers, looking away, something vulnerable in the arch of his neck, at the visible sliver of his collarbone. 

 

Connor climbed next to him and laid down, stiffly. Leon wasn’t close enough to touch, but he could feel his warmth and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

 

“What’s going to happen tomorrow?” Connor asked him, quietly, not sure why he felt like he should be whispering when it was so painfully obvious to his body that they were alone.

 

“I don’t know,” Leon told him, just as quiet. Connor could feel him shift under the blankets, trying to find a more comfortable position.

 

Connor closed his eyes. He expected to have a hard time falling asleep. He didn’t.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Grise Fiord is the northernmost civilian settlement in the world and it's also one of the coldest places on earth. It's an interesting place.
> 
> This is late whoops, but I do promise to update tomorrow. Something came up but we're nearly finished now. Let me know what you think? Writing Leon doing magic is by far my favorite thing. Big thanks to everyone for their encouragement so far!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certain things become clear.

 

 

Connor woke up without any real idea why. The fire crackled merrily, the rune that Leon put on it stark against the dwindling kindle. It cast light across the room, deepening the shadows in a way that felt eerie. Connor had moved during his sleep. So had Leon, and his arm now rested across Connor’s hips, palm warm on his belly, through his thin T-shirt. Their legs were tangled underneath the sheets and Connor felt Leon’s echoing breath every time he exhaled.

 

He closed his eyes for just a moment and let himself enjoy it. Leon’s body, snug behind his, the promise of it. And then he carefully unwound their legs and slipped out from underneath Leon’s arm.

 

Leon’s breathing stayed calm and even through Connor putting on his clothes, his coat and his boots. He didn’t stir as Connor pulled the flashlight off the table, or when he closed the door of the cabin behind him. Even if he did, Connor wouldn’t know what to say to him.

 

Outside, the village was quiet. The only thing disturbing the nighttime stillness was the sound of the waves hitting the shore, and even that felt muted and far-off. Connor turned towards the mountains and wasn’t surprised to find them gone. Instead, a curtain of white stood in their place, snowflakes falling thick and quiet, obscuring the horizon.

 

Connor stepped towards it and kept walking until snow crunched underneath his feet. By the time he thought to look back, the village was gone, replaced by what seemed like an endless expanse of ice. It had stopped snowing.

 

He walked on. There was no sound from the snowy landscape around him, not even the echo of his boots or his laboured breath. If there was anything living in the area, it knew how to keep quiet, smothered by the snow. Connor watched his footprints instead of the horizon. He wondered when, if ever, the ground below had borne the weight of another person.

 

The wind blew icy, with nothing to stay it. His eyelashes froze over, then melted right after, flowing like tears from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t feel cold or pain, though his body should have been affected by both. In fact, he almost felt too hot, had to resist an urge to throw off his coat and leave it behind. It was only the memory of Leon’s back, hunched over and sewing symbols into the cloth, that stopped him from slipping it off. It would be a shame to waste all his hard work.

 

The mountain of snow rose suddenly before him. One moment, he was looking at the horizon, at the utter desolation of it, and in the next the mountain was there, imposing, rising up above him.

 

And right in front of it, built into the mountain, was the entrance to a cave. It didn’t look naturally made, though Connor couldn’t think of anything that could have carved it. Light shone from the inside, illuminating the familiar symbol above the door. Leon had scoffed when Connor told him it looked like two crossed hockey sticks above a puck, but that’s what it was. As Connor drew closer, he realized the symbol wasn’t carved or wrought out of metal, like he thought at first. It was also ice, just a different colour. A deep dark red, almost like -

 

Well. That was appropriately sinister.

 

Connor stepped inside of the cave, only to realize it was a tunnel, lit up by floating balls of light that hovered just below the iced arches of the ceiling, but their soft white light didn’t seem to be melting it any. If they could patent those at Ikea, they would make a fortune. Or at least, more of a fortune that they already had. Connor made a mental note to mention it to the Swedes and continued on.

 

He came to a point where the hallway split into two tunnels. One was lit up and the other wasn’t. He thought, briefly, of walking down the unlit one, wondering what would happen. Death and destruction, probably. He followed the lights.

 

It was hard to tell how long he’d been walking. The walls of the tunnel were pure white, unmarked, except for the floating lights, and his watch had stopped somewhere during the journey.

 

Eventually, though, the tunnel opened up into a tall and wide cavern. There were a lot of the floating lights, gathered in random clusters, but the space was so big that their light didn’t reach the edges of it, creating a feeling of endlessness.

 

And rising before him, taller and taller as Connor drew closer, was a throne.

 

Of course.

 

There was a figure sitting on it and Connor squinted, momentarily worried that the ice and cold had damaged his vision. As he came closer he realized that actually, it wasn’t his eyes at all. The figure wasn’t one person at all, but many, faces changing before he could properly discern who they belonged to. He thought he saw Howe among them, and Orr, and Subban, and Poulin, and Gretzky, fatherly and familiar. The faces came slower and slower until they settled, on full lips and a familiar titanium jaw.

 

Sidney Crosby sat on the throne made of ice. The only sign that he wasn’t the real deal was his too-wide grin and the blue tinge to his body. 

 

“You took your time getting here,” Not-Sidney Crosby said. He didn’t actually open his mouth. The voice seemed to echo through the cavern itself, reverberating in Connor’s bones. He felt suddenly very small.

 

“You didn’t leave very clear instructions,” Connor said.

 

Not-Sidney Crosby scoffed. “Your witches should have been able to read the sigil,” he said. “Times really have changed.”

 

“Why did you curse me?” Connor asked. He watched Not-Sidney Crosby roll his eyes. Weirdly, this version was a lot more expressive than the original.

 

“Curse you?” Not-Sidney Crosby shook his head. “I didn’t curse you, child. I gave you a gift.”

 

His voice had softened by the end, into something gentle and faux-sweet. Connor frowned.

 

“I can’t play like this,” Connor said.

 

“Actually, you can,” Not-Sidney Crosby said, “you can play better than you’ve ever had before. You aren’t just playing the game. You live it, and that’ll take you further than any player had gone before.”

 

“It shows up on the magical scans,” Connor pointed out, frowning sceptically.

 

“A minor setback,” Not-Sidney Crosby waved his head. “These things have rules, you see. I can make it so no magical artefact can detect its presence in you and I can help you play the best hockey anyone has ever played.”

 

“But?” Connor prompted. It seemed almost too good to be true.

 

“But nothing,” Not-Sidney Crosby shrugged. “You win a cup, or two. Or as many as you like. You play as much as you want, as often as you want. Play in front of thousands. Play in your backyard. Do whatever you want.”

 

“What are you getting out of this?” Connor asked. 

 

Not-Sidney Crosby’s eyes glittered in the pale light of the cavern. “They’ll come to watch you play,” its voice echoed, “like coming to worship. I get their stomping feet, their raised voices, the joy in their hearts. I get the fear and their tears, and the pain of a loss. Their painted faces. Their awe. Nothing could be bigger than that.”

 

And as he spoke, Connor saw it, the Oilers fans, their sadness and disappointment turning into something else, something joyous. His name on their lips. His shirt on their backs. It was beautiful.

 

“What do I have to do?” Connor asked softly. Not-Sidney Crosby smiled.

 

“Just say yes,” he said.

 

Connor thought about it. It would feel good to just go home, to the practice rink, to the familiar sounds and smells. He missed his stick like a limb and how skates on his feet bizarrely made him feel so much more stable. He thought about playing, and winning, with or in spite of his teammates.

 

He thought about the growing coldness in his chest and it not mattering.

 

“I-” he started.

 

He thought of Leon’s face.

 

*

 

Connor woke up to the cold. The snowstorm was back and it was snowing so thickly that he could barely see. The wind howled in his ears, whipping at his body. The charms in his jacket were activated but even they could barely stave off the poisonous cold. 

 

His body felt heavy as he tried to put one foot in front of the other, wading through the hip-deep snow. The cold and damp seeped into his clothes and he couldn’t seem to stop his teeth from chattering.

 

This was winter at its cruellest. In the face of it, it became harder and harder to remember why he was even trying.

 

Connor shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, trying to warm them up even though it was futile. His fingers grasped something round and hot. He pulled it out and squinted at it. It was a coin, glowing red hot, the warmest thing in his universe.

 

The rest, he saw only in fragments. He tripped and fell into the snow, and he didn’t have the strength to get up anymore. His eyelashes froze, obscuring his vision. There was blood on the snow, from his nose that’d started bleeding.

 

And then there was the glint of dark eyes above him. He could barely make out a snout as well, and hints of a shape taller than any man. 

 

The smell, warm animal and rotting meat, got stronger as the polar bear opened its mouth, exposing rows of deadly sharp teeth.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving you all on a cliffhanger! Really though, this was actually my favorite chapter to write in this story. The strange hockey god spirit, the bartering, the polar bear? Everything was so fun. Have you all figured out what Connor's curse is? It's never explained in this in direct terms but I wonder if it comes across anyway. Tell me what you think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea is drunk and Connor takes flight.

 

 

Connor woke up with a start. 

 

For a moment, he couldn’t seem to get any air into his lungs no matter how much he gasped. It felt like the snow and ice were still everywhere, weighing down his body and he was trapped and-

 

“Easy, easy,” soft voice and warm hands. “Just try to breathe, you’re okay, you’re safe now.”

 

Leon, Connor realized. It was Leon, helping him sit up, his palm radiating heat on Connor’s mid-back. Finally, Connor remembered how to take a breath. It smelled like herbs and woodsmoke, and the barest hint of jasmine. 

 

“There you go,” Leon said softly, nonsensical. He was holding Connor’s hand and without even thinking about it, Connor turned his palm to lace their fingers together.

 

He opened his eyes, remembering that he had them, and looked at Leon. He had a split lip and shadows under his eyes but otherwise, he seemed unchanged. He was looking at Connor with naked worry and care, and that was almost too much.

 

Connor let out a soft pained noise at the sudden sharp pain in his chest. Leon pulled closer and Connor met him the rest of the way, curling up against his chest as a couple of weeks of suppressed emotion hit him all at once.

 

It was an unidentifiable time later that the pain stopped and Connor moved away, putting some space between them and wiping his eyes. 

 

“How did you find me?” he asked, looking up at Leon, who still watched him with soft concerned eyes.

 

“Oh,” Leon laughed, “it was the coin that the couch gave you. I was able to focus on it enough to figure out your location after you’d gone. Which was dumb, by the way. You shouldn’t have gone out there without me.”

 

“It was the only way,” Connor said softly. He struggled to push away the sudden feeling of guilt. He looked across the room, at the couch. The light from the kitchen window lit up the dust mites on it. It still looked in all ways like an ordinary couch, and yet it seemed to look almost...smug?

 

“I know,” Leon sighed, “but still.”

 

He got up and Connor dropped his hand, startled. Leon went to the kitchen, lighting up the gas stove with a careless wave. He pulled down a cauldron and filled it with water, throwing in some herbs. His motions were clumsy and off-centre, and more than once he missed his target completely.

 

“The polar bear!” Connor remembered suddenly. “What happened to-”

 

“Ah, that was me, sorry,” Leon said sheepishly. “It was the closest animal I could find that had any hope of reaching you and doing something about it.”

 

“So you, what? Possessed it?” Connor asked, incredulous. He realized with a start that he was lying in Leon’s bed and he flushed, embarrassed.

 

“I briefly switched our consciousnesses,” Leon shrugged. “I would have just asked it for help but I didn’t have time.”

 

Connor could barely process that. “You switched?”

 

“Yup,” Leon said, smiling wryly, “it must have been really confused when it suddenly woke up in my body but it didn’t do much damage.”

 

Connor’s head hurt thinking about it so he put the thought aside. He heard soft footfalls and a moment later, something orange and round landed on his legs. Eustace meowed at him with all the concern a cat could possess, which was a surprisingly considerable amount.

 

“I’m fine,” Connor told him. Eustace started purring, walking over to rub his body against Connor. 

 

Connor buried his hands into his fur, grasping for his composure. Everything threatened to make him cry right now.

 

“How did I get here?” he asked out loud.

 

“I called in some favours,” Leon said from where he was straining the liquid from the pot into two cups. He caught sight of Connor’s concerned look and smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Okay,” Connor said. Leon brought over the cups of tea and handed one to Connor, sitting down on the stool next to the bed. Connor took a tentative sip, expecting it to be hot, but it was the perfect temperature and he drank deeply, feeling his strength returning.

 

There was a moment of silence as they drank. Leon broke it.

 

“Can I ask you something?” he said, looking uncertain. 

 

“Sure.”

 

“Why did you say no?”

 

Connor took another sip, trying to collect his thoughts. Truthfully, he knew exactly why he’d made the decision he did. But looking at Leon, at his handsome face and his inquisitive expression, the embarrassment and fear ran white hot in his chest. He coughed.

 

“I don’t know,” he said.

 

Leon’s face softened into a smile. He put his hand on Connor’s knee, warm through the blanket. “I’m glad,” he said.

 

And, as if he sensed Connor’s thoughts, Leon reached out, to cup Connor’s cheek in his palm. Connor leaned into the touch and Leon’s lips followed the path of his hand. 

 

He pressed a kiss to Connor’s cheek, to the corner of his mouth, and then Connor got impatient.

 

Eustace leapt off Connor’s lap with an affronted yowl and their laughter broke the kiss, but not for long.

 

*

 

Leon helped him stand up and guided him for a walk around the house and out the door. In truth, Connor didn’t really feel any adverse effects from his excursion into the ice and snow, but he pretended a bit so he could have an excuse to lean against Leon for a little while longer.

 

Outside, the sun had just climbed up to shine pale in the sky. It was warm, but the wind that blew had a hint of sharpness to it that signalled the start of Fall. Connor straightened, reluctantly parting from Leon, who watched him with amusement that let him know that his deception hadn’t gone unnoticed.

 

“Huh,” Connor said, as a thought occurred to him, “wait. How long was I out?”

 

“Three days,” Leon told him. Connor did a little bit of math. There were four days to the journey and if he’d spent three days recovering that meant-

 

“...I’m going to miss the start of training camp,” Connor said, horrified. “Leon! I can’t miss training camp!”

 

And then Leon laughed, taking Connor entirely by surprise.

 

“I’m serious, Leon!” Connor said, frowning. After all this time, he thought Leon understood.

 

“Oh, I know,” Leon said between chuckles. “You can’t miss training camp - so we better get a faster way to travel!”

 

He snapped his fingers, and the broomstick stood to attention, then zoomed to hover parallel next to him. It looked less excited than it did about floor sweeping, but it still exuded more exuberance than the average broomstick had for anything.

 

“I thought you hated flying,” Connor managed. Leon grinned at him, and something in his eyes, so soft and fond, made Connor flush.

 

“I do,” Leon said, “but for you, I’m prepared to make some sacrifices.”

 

The broomstick handle was more comfortable than it looked. Connor wrapped his arms around Leon’s middle and buried his head between his shoulder blades. He heard Leon’s smile in his words.

 

“Hold on tight, okay?” Leon said. “We’re a little bit rusty.”

 

The broomstick jerked and started rising, and Connor squeezed Leon tighter and chanced a look down. They rose higher and higher above the trees, as Eustace’s orange form became nothing but a speck. 

 

The air was cooler up here, but clearer. Connor took a breath and felt it fill his lungs. He closed his eyes. The wind whipped past his face, familiar and exhilarating all at the same time, like standing with the expanse of a hockey rink in front of you.

 

In front of him, Leon sat, warm and solid. Connor pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and listened to the sound of his laughter echo through the wind.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has supported and liked this story. I hope you like the conclusion and that you've enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I'll see you soon for the sequel ;)


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